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I dreamed a dream

On occasion, weird things happen in my dreams. (Der. They are dreams, right?)

The weirdest dreams of all happen when I dream I am back in high school. Like, I’m a student again, and I’m me, but not me. I’m a 29 year old version of me trapped in the body and social interactions of an 18 year old. Like Never Been Kissed. Only by 18, for however awkward and unlikeable I may have been, I’d at least been kissed.

(Perhaps I just overshared here. But it’s Spring break and I was up at 5:30 this morning, so oversharing is caused by lack of functioning braincells. Mmkay? Moving on.)

I blame the fact that I sometimes dream I’m back in high school again on the fact that, well, I TEACH high school. So technically, I’m still IN high school. And sometimes it’s hard not to worry about image when you’re in an environment where the majority of breathing beings are concerned with image.

Last night I dreamed I was a cheerleader. I was not a cheerleader in high school. So I blame this on the fact that I’ve recently taken up the role of basketball cheer coach at the school and the football cheer coach and I are knee-deep in choosing vendors and accessories and warm-ups, oh my! (Why are there no less than 400 different pairs of CHEER SHOES to choose from? Why? WHY?)

Gah. Rambling. Lack of braincells. Sorry.

In my dream, I donned my cheer uniform and headed to the stadium. I thought I was looking great! Little to no cellulite on my thighs! My arms weren’t too jiggly! I was all pumped and happy and excited to be there.

In the time I was sitting in the bleachers, ZOMG THE CUTEST GUY IN SCHOOL SAT BY ME! SWOON!! (<–That was me being a teenager. I’m already married to the hottest guy in school, thankyouverymuch.)

But he sat by me and remarked to another player “Hey! Look! There’s a not skinny cheerleader on the squad!”

Now, I don’t know how to take that. And please remember this is my dream. So the fact that I’m taking it in ANY way at all is bizarre. I know.

The rational 29 year old in my dreams wanted to high-five the guy for recognizing that bodies come in all shapes and sizes and that we can all be cool and look great no matter how much we weigh or how not-skinny we are.

The irrational 29 in my dreams wanted to cry at being called “not skinny” by a teenager. And the 18 year old in me was crestfallen at his completely ambiguous remark that offered no indication as to whether he meant that statement in a positive or negative way, but which was most certainly taken in a negative way because that’s what 18 year olds (and apparently irrational 29 year olds) do.

And then I woke up and felt all weird.

Because, again, I do not think I look as fat and out of shape and unhealthy as I actually look. And then I see pictures and I’m all “OMG! Even my HEAD looks fat!”

(Truth. I saw pictures from a birthday party yesterday. The small, less-than-a-serving-size piece of cake went straight to my double chin.)

I know that I am not as out of shape as other people my height and weight. Actually, aside from my weight, I’m in great health. My cholesterol is normal, my blood pressure is actually low (and always has been). While I’m not running a marathon any time soon (and have no desire to do so) I’ve seen a definite increase in my endurance levels while doing cardio. (I’m working on the weights, Adrienne. Promise!)

For the record, I was 197 on the scale as of this morning, with 3 days of going to the gym behind me last week and 6 days of recording nearly every bite of food that hit my lips. So, WINNING, but only half way because of this whole body-image thing.

What gives? How does someone who has suffered from low self-esteem her whole life suddenly stop caring? How do I learn to love my body for what it IS and what it can do? (Hello, I grew a human. That’s pretty farking awesome.)

How do I learn to not care what other people think (when other people are likely not even looking at me with any sort of thoughts whatsoever) and retrain myself to think more positively about my body?

Y’all, don’t forget that April is Child Abuse Awareness and Prevention month. I’m Blogging for Children and hope you’ll join me. Get your post up and then on Friday, there’ll be a link up and a new challenge!

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Saturday 9th of April 2011

Maybe it's this. It's not that you don't care, it's that you are comfortable in your skin! And that's awesome!!!! I think we beat ourselves up for stupid reasons that don't make sense. It's been ingrained in us for some reason. But I think you're beautiful. And you'll look great in your red satin dress ;-)


Monday 4th of April 2011

I think after we grow a human (I love how you say this!) we 'stop caring' so much. We start realizing how amazing our bodies are for what they do, and get educated about the fact that the models in the mags don't even look that way -- we all know NOW that they are airbrushed up the wahzoo. I am loving this post for so many reasons. 1: You told your weight. I won't even get on the scale right now and tell ME what I weigh. So you've totally inspired me. 2: You said 'farking.' One of my favorite words! I use it and people are all, "whaat?" 3: 'Grow a human.' Exactly. When I was expecting my second, my husband came home from work and the house was a hot mess, my oldest was still in her pj's and I'd been on the sofa, puking all day. He said, "What did you do today?" I said, "Grew a lung. And you?" 'Grew a human' is totally awesome. Passing this on!


Tuesday 5th of April 2011

I grew a human and started caring MORE. The stretch marks that my husband tells me he can't even see make me cringe. Even though they ARE faded, I know they're there.

And thank you for loving this post. I love that you love it.


Monday 4th of April 2011

I have always ALWAYS struggled with self esteem and my body image. I blame it all on growing up in a home where I was yelled at for breathing the wrong way, and someone always making fun of my Mom for being fat (which she never ever was and I'm sure that she was anorexic/bulimic at one point)...le sigh. So yes, I too cringe when I see myself in the mirror...obsess over la sucks. So when you learn that little secret of just loving yourself for who you are, can you let me in on it?


Monday 4th of April 2011

I was called "Mooranda" for the greater part of late elementary school and all of middle school. Kids would moo at me as I walked down the hallway. I was mortified on a daily basis.

It's going to take a long, long time for me to learn to love myself.


Monday 4th of April 2011

so when you figure this out...let me know. I hate my body. it's fat...even though in my mind I am smokin'. in photos? no.


Monday 4th of April 2011

I think perhaps I just need to put the kibosh on photos for a while. :/

Erin B.

Monday 4th of April 2011

Stand in front of a mirror...naked. You probably do this a million times a week getting showered, dressed, drying your hair before putting on clothing...but what do you say to yourself (figuratively here..unless you talk out-loud to yourself like I do). Do you criticize your arms? Do you pinch your belly flab? Do you poke at your cellulite? Do you frown, in general?

Do you?

What would happen if you did ANY of those things to Dan or Joshua (criticize, pinch, poke, frown)? Would they think you loved them if you did those things on a regular basis? No. Do you think your body thinks you love it when you do those things on a regular basis...?


What do you do to remind Dan and Joshua you love them?

Just a thought :)


Monday 4th of April 2011

I do not stand in front of the mirror naked. I do not like to SEE myself naked. That's how much I don't like my body image.

With that in mind, I'm not going to go around kissing on my nakedness like I do Dan and Joshua.


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